Petty striving

Scattered and fun, with streaky platinum blond and purple hair, matte red lips, clear blue eyes and a bright pink '50s coat, Petty is kooky in the best possible way. She's also unnervingly candid. At the same time she's guarded and distant, in the manner of someone born to a life filled with prying eyes like mine.

For her trip to Los Angeles, Petty has put together a 12-minute promotional video that runs through six of her films, ranging from work she did as an undergraduate at Sarah Lawrence to her projects as a New York University film student and some independent work. Petty is interested in everything from documentaries (she's playing with a project about Cosmopolitan magazine) and full-length feature films to commercials. She has an eye for character and detail and seems to be heavily influenced by music videos.

Her latest film, "Issa," is an investigation of "internal and external privacy" and "not wanting to have the truth dictated to you," Petty says, between sips of a latte at her corner Starbucks. Which means? She is interested, she says a bit wearily, in the ways we are all invaded -- from the merging of information sources to the prying eyes of people who are interested in someone because of, oh, say, who her father is. It's also about a "girl who doesn't want to conform, so she wears disguises." (Petty hid her father's identity from her schoolmates at NYU for the first year she was there.)

Petty and I met twice in February at her house. Our introduction took place on a subway going uptown -- to the Paper magazine tent set up for Fashion Week in Bryant Park. Petty, in pink tinted sunglasses, waded in among the hip and beautiful, pointing out people she knew. That day, clothing designer Claude Sabbah was showing his newest collection and using one of Petty's short films as a backdrop. Sabbah designed the costumes for "Issa," draping characters in luxuriant, heavy cloaks with eye slits that conjure up images of glamorous ninjas.

While it's clear that Sabbah respects Petty's work, how many NYU film students have access to couture costume designers? In the crush of young actor-director aspirants, everyone works hard and trolls for contacts, but in such celebrity-drunk circles, it becomes especially apparent just how much last names do matter.

While we sat on the uncomfortable risers at the show, a photographer took Petty's picture as she smiled and whispered, "That's paparazzi." But most people didn't notice us -- there were too many full-fledged celebrities in the crowd to trifle with the kids. And there was something a little awkward about the whole thing. For one, Petty's films weren't where they were supposed to be. (It turned out they were being projected in the main foyer while the fashion show took place inside.) Petty was a little embarrassed. Sabbah, of course, was mobbed after the show, so we spoke only to his assistant. Petty then introduced me to her producer, Gena Boyer, gushing that Boyer would "love" me, as she herself did. I was flush with the praise -- until I remembered we'd known each other for just an hour.

We grabbed a cab outside Bryant Park, Boyer and Petty furiously barking into cellphones as we headed back downtown. Petty dropped Boyer off and suggested we get drinks in the lobby of the Mercer Hotel. The Mercer is a funny place, not the sort of stomping grounds that upstart -- or unknown -- filmmakers linger in. You can't sit in the exclusive hotel's lobby unless you're a guest or unless the hotel "knows you." We fell into the latter category. A couple of hours, a handful of free drinks from the obsequious staff and an assortment of off-the-record stories later, I felt as if we'd bonded -- become friends even.

And then Petty, late for a production meeting, was off, hopping into a cab with a tart goodbye and nary a backward glance. I was left with a mild buzz and the peculiarly off-center feeling that I'd contributed to the pyramid scheme of celebrity culture -- meeting Petty before she'd even produced a full-length video, let alone a feature film. My notes were a mishmash, filled with phrases like "Dad has nothing at all to do with my life in the city" and "hard work" and "L.A. is always perfect, that can make you crazy too" and "surreal."

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